Criminal Mastermind
by SeraphimXII
Summary: Dean robbed a bank at age eleven.


**Title**- Criminal Mastermind

**Series**- Supernatural

**Disclaimer**- I do not own

**Warning(s)**- N/A

**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**- Dean

**Rating**- K

Dean robbed a bank at age eleven.

It wasn't really the hardest decision he had to make, if anything it was the easiest. You could only steal from the school so many times before someone caught you. They needed money, and banks were insured. It started with a hunt- and, as it seemed to be of late, their dad hadn't given them enough money to hold out for the two weeks he'd be gone. Though, _maybe _that was more Dean's fault then anything. Finding ways to get money to cover the difference when they eventually ran out of money had gotten the idea jammed into his dad's brain that as long as the rent was paid for, all you needed for food was thirty dollars. Mind you that was a two week budget. A week _naturally _being fifteen, and if John was only going to be gone a _couple_ of days, he'd just buy them a _decent_ amount of supplies expecting Dean to ration it out. The man had his faults. Dean knew this. But John tried and that's what mattered, wasn't his fault he was naive. Wasn't like he'd tell his dad his short-comings. Which brought about the whole robbing the bank thing.

It seemed the lesser of two evils.

So two weeks were up and John had phoned saying he wouldn't be back a few more days because the hunt turned up something unexpected. Sad news to hear. Especially since another body turned up the night before. Decidely not the best time to say they were out. His dad's thirty and the fourteen dollars he snagged from the class trip fundraiser was caput and food inventory was down to a can of pork'n beans.

If Dean had to listen to Sam whine about the effects of beans on his digestive system again, so help him, he'd lock him in the bathroom.

He was desperate. Desperate enough, he stole 3 inch platform boots from the Salvation Army down the street so he could add a little height to his person. That he stole a set of clothes from someone's laundry hanging on a line down the street from their dinky apartment. That he sent a note with Sam when he got on the school bus to give the secretary stating he was sick and would be absent; forged with his dad's handwriting (of course). That he tracked and trapped a pixy-sprite(of all things), that were relatively harmless as they had a give-and-take relationship with humans that was mutually beneficial to both parties. In short, they helped with the REM cycle of sleep, and humans gave them a nice meal of brain waves- nothing harmful.

He did it- all of it, in preparation for this.

Dean was one of the tallest in his class, not beefed out like he knew he would be in years to come, but not completely scrawny either. With layered clothes (the stolen clothes being the outer layer), gloves that seen better days, a decent wig and ball-cap, the right application of make-up to change up his face a bit, and the boots that were to big for him but tied tight enough that you couldn't tell either way (jeans long enough to hide the fact the boots _were_ of the platform variety), he at the very least looked to be in his mid teens. Which worked cause he checked, and the local high school was out that day because of some reason or other. A teen walking around mid-day wouldn't be out of place.

It was perfect.

With confidence Dean walked to a bank, gym bag in hand. He didn't go to a main branch, obviously (one that was seemingly the least popular in the town), and as soon as he got within those doors, he shook the hell out of a clear, empty, glass container and chucked it to the middle of the open room. It shattered, awesomely.

Dean darted back out the doors. Whomever caught sight of him easily came to the conclusion he pulled a prank of some sort. Checking his watching he waited about a minute before walking back in. Now sprawled before him, a room full of sleeping people. Swiftly opening his duffel he took out a spray-can full of black paint. Same brand his dad used for sigils and traps (probably wondered why he was missing one). Quickly going to the more vital of security camera's he preceeded to blacked them out. The sprite should have already fled. Shaking up the container more of a way to activate it's defence machinism; a potent burst of sleep inducing mist. It didn't stick very long- only for as long as the sprite stuck around. They were a cowardly bunch; it worked in his favor in anycase. Dropping the can back into the duffel, he walked to the tills, quickly and efficiently grabbing just enough to carry comfortably.

He left five minutes later.

Not rushing but not taking his time either, Dean walked into the nearest alley and kept to it through it's turns and short-cuts. Going until he came to a slighty ajar manhole, open enough to not seem obvious. Dropping the sports bag, he walked towards to the innocuous looking crowbar. he took out his school bag from the duffel, whipped off the itchy wig and cap, shed off the extra layers of clothes, took off the boots, stuffed all that into the once empty duffel, put on his runners before finally shoving it down into the sewer. The crowbar helping in the endevear when things jammed. That done, he then used the crowbar to twist and jerk the manhole back in place. That done he chucked it into someone's back yard.

Sweaty, he went home. Rubbing a damp face cloth over his face. No one looked all that surprised seeing a young'n walking around 'cause it was lunchtime and some kids walked home for lunch.

In the distance sirens could be faintly heard and on the news that night besides the investigation into what had knocked out an entire building, police were looking for someone in there mid teens. Someone with curly red hair, a possible scar/blemish along their left cheekbone. Thin, and standing roughly at 5 feet 8 inches, wearing dark worn jeans, an olive green sweater and black shoes.

Dean smiled.

Sam bitched him out.

John flipped when he got back. They left within an hour of his return.

_A/N_

_Having some trouble writing out Tangled Web, but it's coming about... kind of. ANYWAY as I was stuck on _that_ this came about. All because of the first six words. "Dean robbed a bank at age eleven." How did I do? TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS! o_o_

_Hope you enjoyed!_

_XII_


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